Another Dawn

by Sandra Brown

  "But I'll tell you one thing," Jake said sternly, spinning around and surprising his mother with his vehemence. "Ross has given me a job to do. It's a damn good job and I'm glad to have it, but it's going to involve a lot of hard work. I'm not going to put up with any shenanigans from Banner. I'm damn sure not going to stand for any of her tantrums. And the sooner she gets that through her head, the better." With that, he yanked up his hat and pushed through the back door.

  "Well," Ma huffed. Then she smiled and went to join the others outside. It was time they left.

  * * *

  "Was the combread all right?"

  "Yeah. It was fine."

  "Well, you could have said something."

  "I just did! I said it was fine."

  "Thank you." Banner virtually jerked his plate out from under him and whisked it away.

  Jake's hands balled into fists where they rested on the table edge while he slowly counted to ten. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut as he tried to get a grip on his temper. This was their first evening meal together. The first of many to come. The Colemans and Ma had left. The cowboys followed soon afterward. They wouldn't be back until sunup the next morning. Until then he and Banner would be alone.

  How this first night went might determine how the others would go. If they survived tonight, maybe they would have a chance of making mis work.

  When he opened his eyes she was standing at the sink washing dishes with her back to him. She had changed clothes at some point during the day. Instead of the culottes and shirt, she was wearing a calico print dress. It camouflaged her figure more, but it was softer and made her look more touchable.

  But he couldn't touch her. So he might just as well get that thought right out of his mind. He pushed his chair back and carried the serving dishes to the sink.

  "You don't have to," she said, when he set them on the drainboard.

  "I know I don't have to. You don't have to cook my supper either, but that was part of the deal. I want to help you, so let's not argue over it."

  He used the cajoling tone he had used on her when she was a little girl. It had never failed to draw her out of a pouting mood. But it wasn't a little girl's face that turned up to his. It was a woman's. Soft in the lamplight. Damp from having her hands in hot dishwater. Rosy and freckled from hours spent outside today.

  Her eyes were remarkable. He had always thought Lydia's were, but Banner's were even rarer. He could see his reflection in their green and gold depths and could almost laugh at the stupefied look on his face. He wore the duped expression of a man who had just walked into an invisible wall.

  But he couldn't have conjured up a laugh if his life had depended on it. Any more than he could conjure up the willpower to look away.

  The walls of the house closed around them like a gentle fist. It was a small house, having only a front room, a bedroom on one side and this kitchen on the other. It had been designed and built with plans to add on later. But now its miniature size seemed to squeeze them closer together. The pervading silence contributed to the intimacy.

  "You're as touchy as a rattler, Banner," he whispered. Did he fear he would break the spell if he spoke out loud?

  "So are you."

  "I guess I am."

  "You take offense at everything I say."

  "We can't tease each other anymore, can we?"

  "No."

  "I can't go back to treating you the way I did before."

  She sucked in a tremulous little sigh. "I know. Things will never go back to how they were before."

  "Are you sorry for that?"

  "Yes, aren't you?" He nodded. "I should have thought of that before I asked you to..." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and held it there before she went on. "That night will be a barrier between us from now on. We'll always remember it."

  Lord, he remembered it. He remembered it with every masculine cell in his body. His eyes, flagrantly disobeying the commands of his brain, dwelled on the perfect shape of her lips. If only he couldn't remember those catchy little gasps she had made as his tongue sampled her mouth for the first time. If only he couldn't remember her awakening when her mouth had learned to respond.

  Inadvertently he inclined toward her until his body heat melded with hers and they became indistinguishable. He spotted the fluttering of her pulse at the base of her throat where his lips had pressed, and pressed again. The taste still lingered on his tongue.

  Her breasts drew his eyes downward. Her nipples were puckered beneath the cloth of her dress. He saw them and yearned.

  An involuntary groaning sound vibrated through his chest and up his throat. Beneath the fly of his pants he was high and rock hard. Lifting his eyes, he scanned her face, the black cloud of undisciplined hair that wreathed it, and he ached to have her.

  "Banner...?"

  "Yes?"

  Suddenly he realized that he was about to kiss her again. And if he did... If he did, he wouldn't stop there. He would dip his head and kiss her breasts through her dress. He would sip those sweet peaks between his lips. He would cup her hips with his hands and draw them close, as he had done before, lifting her against his rigid manhood. He would do the unthinkable again.

  Before he yielded to the temptation, he stepped away from her. "Nothing. I'll see you in the morning. If you need anything, yell."

  "Where are you going?" It was too early to go to bed.

  "Out to check on that temporary corral we put up today. Randy can't drive a straight nail."

  "I thought he was doing all right for the first day."

  Her taking up for the cowboy was the only catalyst he needed to explode. He vented his frustration through his temper. "Well, he didn't impress me as being so wonderful. If he doesn't live up to the job, he's gone." With that, he slammed out the back door.

  SEVEN

  The night was incredibly dark. Banner hadn't realized how remote her small house was until darkness closed in around it.

  From the day she was born she had slept in a house with other people. Tonight she was alone, completely alone, for the first time in her life.

  Sleep wouldn't come to eliminate the loneliness. Her ears were sensitive to every sound. The noises of a settling house had never alarmed her. At River Bend, in her upstairs bedroom with the window seats and eyelet curtains, those sounds had been familiar and reassuring. She recognized the shape of each shadow outside her window.

  But tonight each whisper of leaves was sinister. The groaning of new lumber sounded like a lament. The shadows weren't friendly.

  Had she made a mistake by leaving her home and family? She had never understood how Ma Langston could live alone in her cabin. Often Lydia and Ross had urged her to move into their house and use one of the upstairs bedrooms. She had always adamantly refused. Banner couldn't imagine preferring solitude to being surrounded by people you loved and who loved you.

  It was awful, this solitude. Maybe she had acted rashly by moving here alone. What if she had to live out her days without anyone for a companion in the night? What if she grew old living here by herself? What reward would there be in making it a profitably working ranch if she had no one to share it with?

  Irritated with herself for harboring such gloomy thoughts, she kicked off her covers and went to the window. At least the moon offered a pale illumination. Her gaze traveled to the barn. It looked new, almost artificial in its newness. It had none of the rustic flavor of the oldest barn at River Bend in which she had played hide and seek with Lee when they were children. This barn looked alien.

  But from one of its windows emanated a feeble light made by a lantern turned down low. Jake was there, not too far away, within shouting distance if the shrouding darkness and stark loneliness got to be too much for her.

  She took comfort in his presence and was able to fall asleep when she returned to bed. As soon as dawn broke, she got up and dressed in work clothes.

  Pearly sunlight filtered through the windows of her kitchen as Banner started breakfast.
The butter-colored glow lent the room a homier aspect and lifted her spirits considerably from what they had been in the dark, lonely hours of the night. She even began to hum as she sliced bacon and laid the thick slices in a skillet.

  But her humming ceased when she saw Jake emerge from

  the barn. Indeed, all of her went completely still. A slice of bacon dangled limply from her fingers. Her lips parted slightly.

  He came out scratching his head and combing his ringers through the hair that looked like tangled spun gold when the rosy sunlight fell on it. He yawned broadly, revealing straight white teeth. Well, the bottom row was slightly crooked in front, but the imperfection was barely noticeable.

  Linking his fingers together and turning them inside out, he raised his hands high above his head and stretched with the sinuous leisureliness of a mountain cat.

  The slice of bacon slipped heedlessly from lifeless fingers.

  He had pulled on his pants and boots, but.. .the pants hadn't yet been buttoned. And it wasn't so much what she could see that intrigued Banner, as what she couldn't see.

  As he stretched with unself-conscious luxury, his feet wide apart, his back arched, Banner was treated to an unrestricted view of his muscular torso. Her mouth went dry, but another part of her body reacted just the opposite. It wasn't that she had never seen a man shirtless before. She had, many times. Her father, Lee, Micah. But she had never seen Jake without a shirt. Even keeping her opinion as fairly unbiased as possible, she thought he was spectacular to look at.

  His shoulders were broad. The muscles of his upper arms curved and cupped into them smoothly. Soft nests of light brown hair lined his armpits. His chest was covered with a network of crisp golden hair, light against the coppery hue of his skin. Almost hidden in that fair pelt were flat brown nipples that were pebbling under the kiss of cool morning air.

  Banner swallowed and pressed her knees tightly together.

  The muscles of Jake's chest could have been the handiwork of a sculptor's fingers. He was lean, but every rippling cord was clearly defined.

  His chest tapered down to a hard flat stomach and an even trimmer abdomen. A sleek line of hair connected that forest on his chest with the thatch that swirled around his navel. It grew darker and denser there. Banner's eyes tracked it until it disappeared into the V made by his opened waistband. Her curiosity went wild. Why had he hitched his pants up quite so high?

  Strange, she thought, that she had lain with this man, yet this was the first time she had seen him any way but fully clothed. Pride welled inside her. He was magnificent. Beautiful. Golden and lean. At least she didn't have to be humiliated by the fact mat her first, and possibly only, lover had been someone undesirable.

  Jake lowered his arms and shook them out to restore circulation. Going to the water pump in the yard between the house and the barn, he bent down and let the water splash over his head and neck as he pumped. When he raised up, he covered his face with his hands and shivered. Gradually he lowered his hands and shook his head to rid it of dripping water. It flew out around him like a shower of diamonds, each prism catching the sunlight.

  He went back into the barn only long enough to retrieve a shirt. When he came out again, he was pulling it on. He walked around the back of the bam until he disappeared from Banner's sight.

  For several moments she stared at the spot where she had last seen him. Then, as if coming out of a trance, she blinked her eyes and drew a deep, ragged breath. One by one her muscles relaxed and the tension ebbed from her limbs. She was amazed to find that a slice of bacon had wastefully been dropped to the floor.

  Her equilibrium was none too steady, but she forced herself to finish preparing breakfast. Any moment now Jake would come in expecting scalding coffee and a hot meal.

  Were her cheeks flushing as warmly as she thought they were?

  Would he know she had been spying on him?

  But so what if he had? she thought, suddenly angry. He had no business parading around half naked like mat! She certainly hadn't wanted to look at him; it had been an accident. Nor did she crave to touch... anything. And that vague twinge of disappointment she felt in the pit of her stomach wasn't because he had been wearing a shirt that night they made love. Certainly not! It probably wouldn't have felt good anyway, all that hair and hard muscle against her breasts.

  She coughed to relieve her throat of a sudden congestion.

  When he knocked on the back door, she jumped like a frightened rabbit and whirled around just in time to see him coming in.

  He noticed her agitation instantly and asked, "What's the matter?"

  "Nothing," she said with breathless rapidity.

  "You sure?"

  "Yes. Of course. What could be the matter?"

  "I don't know, that's why I asked."

  She turned her back on him. "Sit down. Breakfast is ready."

  He gave her an odd look, but did as she said, pulling a chair back from the table and dropping into it. She crossed to the table quickly, bringing the coffee pot with her. She reached over his shoulder to pour him a cup. "Sleep well?" he asked.

  He turned his head to glance up at her. They froze.

  Leaning forward as she was, with her arms extended, her breast was on a level with his face. They were so close if he had puckered his lips they would have touched her. She even felt his indrawn breath against her nipple, which was tight, unaccountably so since it surely wasn't cool in the kitchen. Indeed, Banner had never been so uncomfortably warm in her life.

  She sloshed the coffee into the mug and pulled back quickly. "Yes, I slept fine. You?"

  "Fine, fine." His teeth were grinding together and he was rocking slightly in his chair. But he was facing forward now and looked like he intended to stay that way forever. Lesson number one: Never, never turn your head when Banner is serving you. He cleared his throat. "That room is cozy enough." Liar. He hadn't snatched but minutes of sleep at a time. He had tossed and turned, thinking of her in the house, worrying if she had remembered to lock the doors, if she was cold, if she was hot, if she was hungry, if she was scared. He had tried a thousand times to convince himself that he ought to check on her, knowing damn good and well that he shouldn't.

  "It won't be too hot in there this summer, will it?" She felt it was necessary to make idle conversation to cover her own nervousness as she carried the serving dishes to the table.

  "If it is I can sleep outside. I've done it often enough."

  He had referred to his sleeping habits that night in the barn. Why the hell had he repeated it now to act as a reminder? Maybe she wouldn't remember. But when his gaze slid up to meet hers, he knew she did. Her cheeks deepened a shade pinker and she turned away hurriedly.

  It was then that the pants registered with him.

  She was outfitted in pants. They had either been a pair of Lee's sized down or tailor-made to fit her because they gloved that cute little butt in a sanity-threatening way.

  Hell! How did she expect him to swallow bites of scrambled eggs—cooked just the way he liked, by the way—when she was sashaying around the kitchen, fetching and carrying, in those damn tight britches?

  They should have been outlawed. Because if he had speculated on the shape of her thighs before, they held no mystery for him now. They were long and trim and designed to make a man's mouth water. Jake had seen dance hall girls perform in scandalously sheer tights and none had been as provocative as Banner wearing form-fitting faded denim. Only days ago, he had teasingly swatted her on the bottom and thought nothing of it. Well, he thought about it now. He thought about it so hard his palms began to tingle. If his hand ever landed on that sweetly rounded flesh again, it wouldn't be for a playful spanking, but a caress.

  When everything had been carried to the table, she sat down across from him. Jake breathed a sigh of relief. But his relief was short-lived. Her front acted like a magnet for his eyes. She was wearing a simple cotton shirt, nothing fancy, one you could find on any cowhand. But Banner altered its shape con
siderably. She couldn't have put anything into the pockets if she had wanted to. They were already filled with her breasts.

  "Gravy?"

  "What?" He jerked his eyes from her chest to her inquiring face.

  "You haven't sampled my gravy yet. Scared?" Banner cocked her head to one side. The taunt was a valiant attempt to put things back on an even keel. Jake was acting as strangely as she was. He was probably still upset over their argument last night and mat was the reason for the tension around his mouth.

  She longed for the days when they had been good friends and confidants. Hadn't he pressed her head against his chest once when she was crying over a lost kitten? She hadn't had this warm, curling flurry in her stomach then. Why couldn't they recapture that kind of camaraderie?

  What a senseless question to ask herself. She knew why. Things would never be the same between them, but maybe they could pretend that the night in the barn had never happened. At least she was going to try. "Don't you think I can cook?"

  He chuckled and ladled a generous amount of thick, steaming gravy over the biscuit he had broken apart. "I have a stomach made of iron or I never would have survived eating out of chuck wagons. I imagine I'll be able to choke down your cooking." He took a bite, closed bis eyes and savored it as he chewed. Only after he had swallowed with comical exaggeration did he open his eyes. He smacked his lips and said, "Delicious."

  She grinned at him and felt much more at ease. "I've been thinking about a name for the ranch."

  "I thought it already had a name."

  She sipped her coffee and shook her head. "I don't want it to be just an extension of River Bend. I want it to have a name of its own. Any suggestions?"

  "Hmm. I hadn't thought about it."

  She laid her fork on her plate, clasped her fingers, and leaned forward on her elbows. "What do you think of Plum Creek?"

  "Plum Creek?"

  "That's the name of the creek that runs through the forested edge of the property, the creek that channels into the river."